


stubborn

by fishysama



Series: goretober 2018!!! [19]
Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Blackmail, Blood and Gore, Goretober, Goretober 2018, Guro, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 23:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishysama/pseuds/fishysama
Summary: goretober day 19: missing a body parthiroki's too harsh with his gradingthanks to tungle's pepppermints for help with this prompt ☆





	stubborn

A dark room, a single stool, a single man. Hiroki did not remember how he got here, he did not know how to leave. His limbs were bound together with tape, not that he had the strength to move. His mouth, however, remained uncovered. He could scream, but something was stopping from doing so. His mind wasn’t right. It was some drug, some kidnapping agent. He is slack, held up only by a stool and the cement wall behind him. He drools; a marionette.

A door opens, closes, and locks. A second, closer door, opens, closes, and locks. Security seemed to be the top priority. The door across from Hiroki finally opens. A figure stands in its place, the lighting was too dim to make out details in his appearance. But, the light was bright enough for Hiroki to spot the inner workings: tool belt, knives, his own nudity. Hiroki does not become fearful. That would mean losing.

The man closes the door, locks it behind him. Darkness again. Silence. The man yanks a beaded pull-string and the room is lit. The man comes into focus, he is recognized. He was a student in his Classic Literature 101, quiet, sat in the back of the lecture hall. He didn’t know his name, just the fact that he was god-awful at writing papers. And that he was failing. And, now, that he wanted revenge.

Hiroki draws his weak face into a half-smile. He was a harsh grader, and it would snap back at him someday, that’s what Akihiko always said. Akihiko… must be worried. How long has he been here for?

“Good morning, professor,” he speaks in a mocking tone, “Did you sleep well?”

He grumbles, the grogginess from whatever drug clouding his brain. He wants to curse him out, his mouth just won’t keep up.

His fat-fingered hand grabs his face, squishing his cheeks. “You look nice today. Very cute.” His hands caress down his neck to his chest. The latex of the gloves made him itch. “You know, I never thought you were _queer,_ professor, but you did get a kick out of it last night. Do you want to see the video?”

His eyes widen with that. His safety didn’t matter at the moment, it was about his reputation, his place in the classroom. A follow-up threat wasn’t needed, the goal of this operation was clear: blackmail. The tapes would be released and that would be the death of him. His relationship, too.

“Ah, I guess not… Well, don’t worry. We’re having conferences together, right? And, you gave my grades some second thoughts, right?”  He reaches around himself, pulling out a syringe and a dark vial. He readies it, a transparent liquid filling the barrel. “Then I’ll just keep the video to myself. What do you say, professor?” With the pop of the “p,” he jams the needle into his arm and plunges it.

Hiroki keeps eye contact despite the inner worry. And, slowly, the mind fog began to drift away. His lips lost their numbness first, prompting the “What the fuck is your problem!?”

That was obviously not the correct response. The hot, searing pain bursts in his cheek before he sees the hand fly across his face. He repeats, enunciating carefully, “What do you say?”

He grimaces, tugging at the binds. “Listen…” there’s a long sigh, “I am _not_ changing your grade, that is something you don’t deserve. Committing crimes does not give you special privileges.”

He pulls at Hiroki’s mussed hair, adding, “You just have to type in a few numbers, that’s all. And I’ll attend your worthless classes for the rest of the semester without another word.”

“You… It’s not happening period.” His stubbornness would be the death of him. Logic was out of the question. It was a matter of pride.

He smirks and begins to walk away. “I’ll see you on the front pages, then.”

“Wait!”

He turns around with a sly smirk. This was a kid who always got his way, and nothing was going to stop him from doing so. The “wait” was an opening for manipulation.

Hiroki could see that sexual, sadistic look in his dull eyes. That was his opening for leverage. “I won’t change your grades… But, I can schedule some office hours for us.”

He chortles and tilts his head, “And what is that supposed to mean for me? I’d rather not have ‘the great Shiga Naoya’ consume more of my time than he already does.”

‘How dare you insult the master of modern literature!!’ Hiroki’s teaching-brain screams. He must suppress that, though. His life was, quite literally, on the line. “You want to hurt me, right? You want to make me squirm?” He spots a glint in the student’s eyes. _Bingo._ Hiroki exposes his neck. “Do so. Anything short of murder, of course. I’ll stay quiet about it, I promise you.”

He exhales through his nose, hums, blinks slowly. “I wouldn’t mind taking you up on that offer, Kamijou-sensei.”

Now Hiroki had won. There would be no blackmail, no immoral grade transfers. This boy would fuck him, or whatever he had in his sick mind, and that would be the end of it. Perhaps Hiroki could contact the police at the end of this too. The professionalism of this event made him think that this wasn’t the first time.

As he creeps closer, he retracts a pair of pliers from the belt. A blade is pulled as well, gleaming. Yes, Hiroki would be speaking to the police.

The first thing that comes is another slap, quick and painful as the one preceding it. “Now, don’t get any ideas.” He leans over him and reaches behind his back. The tape is cut through the middle; a taste of freedom. The tape ripped off either hand speedily, the hair on Hiroki’s wrists coming with it.

Hiroki winces, arching his back. The skin was irritated and flushed red.

“Your hands must hurt from typing all day, right, professor?” He runs his thumb his knuckles, “You’re so callused.”

“I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have an excuse for your boss? I can help you with that.” The knife is slipped into his back pocket. Thank god.

He plays into this sick fantasy. The more he did, the quicker it would be over— he learned a thing or two from a few awful one-night-stands. “Oh really? What would that be?”

He takes the pliers and squeezes them over a callus. The nerveless skin contorts. “A cooking accident. The wine in your pan flared up while you were seasoning the dish. The bandaging is too thick for you to move your fingers.” He releases the clamp.

Hiroki swallows. Burning couldn’t be _that_ bad. And, he was right. Some time off from computer work could be nice.

“Yes, we’ll say it was that.” His free hand shoots forward, clutching over his neck. The pliers shift, gripping the free edge of his thumbnail. All within an instant, the fear returns. He snaps his arm backward, and the nail comes off like that. A bloody nail bed is left, pulsing.

The pain and shock left Hiroki breathless— or perhaps that was the strangulation.

“That wasn’t too bad. Only nine more to go, Kamijou-sensei. What do you think?” He releases his windpipe, demanding speech.

Hiroki cannot deliver. He swallows the air between sharp sobs. He quakes.

“Hm.” The man takes initiative and straddles him, cooing, “It hurts, huh?” He begins to undo his belt. “I know. It hurts when a single grade stops you from getting into grad school, too. The other teachers fixed my grades for me, you know. Why not you?”  He didn’t want an answer to that question.

He forces Hiroki’s hand over the bulge. “You can play with this while I work on your other hand if you’d like.” The “if you’d like” was a formality. He didn’t really have a choice.

The nails are plucked off with no complaint aside from the incessant moaning and wailing from the victim. No matter how much Hiroki tried to focus on giving the world’s-worst handjob, the pain would constantly overlap his focus. When the fifth is removed, Hiroki feels like giving in, like losing. But, the deal has been set. This had to be the punishment.

“You’re holding up well, professor,” he compliments, letting the completed hand fall. It drips with blood, with trauma. “Time to switch. Are you any better with this hand?” He scoffs, “No wonder why your boyfriend let you go so easily.”

 _What?_ Hiroki wants to kill him in that instant. That was a lie, it had to be a lie. He was saying these things just to increase the suffering, they weren’t real. _‘They aren’t real,’_ Hiroki’s injured hand lazily slides down his cock, _‘they aren’t real.’_

The second hand goes by faster, maybe the torturer had gotten in a rhythm, maybe the tortured had become numb to the pain. After the ring-fingernail is yanked off, he comes into Hiroki’s hand. There seems to be no pleasure in the action; he does not react in the slightest. It is merely a release of tension.

Hiroki’s eyes had lost focus long ago. His staring contest with the floor is interrupted abruptly with the sight of blood pliers, his pinky nail. He sniffles. Hiroki’s head is lifted up with big, gloved hands, forced to face the perpetrator.

He smiles. Is he satisfied? “Look at you. You’re a mess.” He brushes the tears away with his thumb, ignores the snot. “You wouldn’t mind if I used your phone, right? I’ll tell your _beau_ that our business is finished.” He climbs off the stool and brushes himself off. The fly is zipped. “And one more thing.” The syringe is exposed again, a different, smaller vial too. “This will help you forget, professor. I’m sure you’d rather not remember.”

Defeat. His right arm shakily extends, exposing the veins.

“Sleep well. He will be here soon.” And, with a kiss to his forehead, the liquid is plunged.

Hiroki’s eyes shut. He acquiesces.

**Author's Note:**

> [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/thanksily/) | [tumblr](https://juroguro.tumblr.com/)


End file.
